Tainted Hope
by BloodyRen
Summary: Telling her tale of her own past. A past filled with great and terrible things that still haunt her to this day. *rewritten*
1. Chapter 1

**Disclaimer: I don't own Totally spies**

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**Tainted Hope**

**Chap. I**

"Do not be afraid. I will not harm you. Please sit. We have much to discuss," Said the woman slowly. The young man could see the furnishings of the quiet room, the glass round table, the comfortable chairs, and heavily decorated wall. He was amazed of such wealth the woman seemed to live in.

Though, (he glanced back at her), she didn't seem to be the type to flaunt and drown in her wealth - her simple dress proved it. However her physical appearance proved to something else, he gazed at her with undeniable wanting.

She was pale and smooth as if she was a sculpture created from a talented, careful artist. One could not tell if she was human, because of her inanimate appearance. Expect of her bright, green eyes that seemed to seep into your spirit and devour you in a single gaze.

"Are you ready?" she said softly, looking back at him with soft features.

He nodded and took out what needed for the interview out of his brief case. His eyes moved slowly from the equipment to her - from her bright red hair to her white cotton dress that fit loosely onto her body.

"Are you certain you want to go through this?" the woman asked with uncertainty. He nervously nodded as he reached out to start the tape recorder but recoiled when the woman leaned to him with a smile.

"Do not be afraid. I want this opportunity very much, to finally tell my tale to somebody willing to listen. Please begin while the night is young." Leaning back, she motioned for him to finally begin.

It took a moment to settle down his nerves, and coughed unnecessarily, to press 'play' on the recorder. "Please begin your story. I won't interrupt. I promise." He spoke quietly.

"I was seven years old when reality began to wreck havoc on my life, and the year was eighteen sixty-one."

The young man looked startled by the date which she spoke about. "How is that possible?" He stuttered, his eyes bulging and sweated dripped down his forehead

The woman laughed, "I thought you were not going to interrupt me," she teased before becoming serious, "Your question, all I can say is there is no simple answer. Listen and possibly it will answer itself."

Accepting her answer, he calmed down and sat still. The woman, knowing all was silent, continued.

"As I was saying, it was eighteen sixty-one, the beginning of the civil war. The ridiculous argument between the north and south raged across America. But back then it did not matter to me. Rather, it simply did not reach my ears. You see my family resided in California - far from the blood shed and horror of the war. Our life there was simple, with our own definition of luxury. The natural beauty that Lord God presented us gave a feeling bliss and happiness. The wild forests brought shelter and shade whenever needed, the flowing rivers, which I swam in every summer to cool down. The mountains that stood tall and proud gave a marvelous view.

The everlasting green lush plantation, that my family owned, held fruits, trees and every flower you can imagine. My beautiful mother played majestically on the grand piano while my strong father played cards with the townsmen. I played games with the children, anything to amuse us. It was a grand era of peace, in my mind.

I could go on forever telling every small detail of life back in those days. Yet it was not meant to last. In those days, true innocence was the peak of my childhood. There was no danger or even a threat that could penetrate my childish mind. I was a princess and was treated like one.

The time I spent with my mother and father were the core of my life. Every minute I shared with them was a timeless. But I didn't know that, yet."

The young man was surprised to see a gleaming tear fall. He felt pity for her. She didn't notice and went on.

" I don't remember the exact day, why would I. It still hurts and still I cry when remembering what happened." She spoke to herself, almost reviving memories meant to be buried deep within her mind.

A normal afternoon in my eyes, just days before my birthday - my mother sent me outside to play. Naive as usual, I went with no protest or with any question. It was beautiful day, so why not enjoy it, why not take advantage of it. Strolling within range, I heard horses traveling across the dirt path to my home. Curious, I looked over to see a carriage heading there and I wondered.

Usually no one visits, except for my Grandparents or the doctor. But my grandparents always sent a letter to us, telling when they are visiting and my parents and I were healthy so there was no reason for the doctor to come, either. Walking back, I heard my father's voice, deep and angered, shouting with rage.

Closer, I heard part of the conversation, which I regretted easily.

'Your payment, Jason' An unfamiliar voice, literally making me shiver in fear from the deadly tone. I thought to myself, Payment? What payment did my parents owe? I walked closer, hoping to hear more.

'I told you before . . . She is not something to be handed over, you sick bastard! How dare you Lord's name, come into my home and demand such things' My father shouted to the unfamiliar man. I held back a gasp, never in my young life has my fathered spoke in such foul language or even dared to call out the Lord's name in vain.

A terrible sick feeling formed in my heart and I pray to Lord God that all will end soon. My prayer was heard, just not in the way I wanted it to.

'I have done what you requested. You should be grateful for my generous offer. However in life one must pay prices to what they request.' Calm and collected as if my father did not bother him at all.

'No. Get out! Be Gone you retched poor pathetic excuse of a human being! Never return!' Father demanded at such volume, those were the last words I heard from my father. The sound of a pistol being fired, was what I heard next. My mothers scream and cries came after that. My throat was tightened by the sudden sound. Naive as I was, I was not stupid. I knew what had happened.

But I had done a very stupid thing, I ran into my home, revealing myself to them and stared at the sight. It was something a child should never see. My father's head was blown up, blood splattered and remains littered the polished floor. My mother was on her knees, holding what was left of him."

"'Daddy' I whispered, tears clouding my vision with my throat tightened - I walked slowly toward them, Staining my dress and feet in blood in the process. A cold, cruel laugh brought me out of my senses. 'Enjoying the sight, love,' He asked with mocking politeness in his voice.

Mother suddenly grabbed me and held me tight in her arms. I remembered her shouting something along the lines of this, 'Stay away from her! You bastard, seeking pleasure to corrupt her innocence' He didn't heed her words, only it made him Smile and started walking toward us.

Mothers stood and backed away, holding me tighter, in fear. She clutched her cross, held it in front of him, saying, 'May Lord God sends your rotting corpse in the deepest pits of hell. Far away from my child !'

'Fine, let God send me there and I will bring her down with me.' He responded so casually. My mother only screamed at him with words unknown to me. The next moments were a blur, I only heard my 'thump' and saw my mother fall to the floor, barely conscious. Leaving me with murder to face alone. Grabbing me with a gentle hold, he looked at me directly with a foreign emotion in his eyes."

That was when I first took a real look of him. Obviously older and much taller, he dressed in a long sleeved Doc stripe shirt, Black highland pants, and mid-calf boots. A black cloak with the silk tie knotted around his throat. A nobleman from my guess.

I stepped out of his hold and I whispered out to him. 'Why did you kill my Father?' I fell to my knees, the palm of hands now red and my eyes watered with tears. 'He did not pay his price. He didn't pay what was mine' He said in a soothing voice, trying to comfort me.

A noise was heard and I turned around to see my mother glared hatefully at him. She struggled to sit up because of her wound, she received.'Don't listen to him Samantha. Please get away from here and call for help.'

'My patience is wearing thin. Love, close your eyes and cover your ears. This will not end well.'

Automatically I did as told, the next minute nothing happened. Until I felt something splatter on me. Covering my dress and hair with a foul-smelling liquid, which in my horror I realized it was my mother's blood and part of her remains.

Opening my eyes, I screamed at my mother's body, or what was left. Two shots to the head and one in the heart. Her head blew to small pieces, showing parts of her brains on the floor and walls. Her remaining eyeball was a few feet away from me. Her lower jaw only showed pieces of teeth and lips.

'Mama!' I screamed with sheer fright at top of lungs. The once beautiful Gabrielle was a disfigured corpse, lying on the floor with no head or heart."

Stopping herself from going any further, Samantha looked back at the poor man - who was now blanch from the descriptive words she told. Sighing out, she faced the grandfather clock to see the time.

'What happened next' asked the man, more interested, even slightly disgusted about Samantha's story.

"Well . . . it's complicated. To me, it never made any sense . . . " She begin before immersing back into her memories.

"Despite my screams and tears, the monster never stopped smiling. To me he was the devil-in-disguised taking pleasure for his sins. I expected him to shoot me down till I was nothing, but I never expected him to embrace me. With such loving warmth, like a man comforting his lover when tragedy struck upon their lives. I struggled in his hold, only for him to tighten his grip on me.

Was I going to die? If I did, would I join my parents in heaven? I thought to myself, no emotion in my heart, not even fear could penetrate it. It gave me a sense of comforting, the thought of joining my Mother and Father, wherever that has gone.

Though, _he_ had other plans, his intention was not to kill me. But to leave me there, alone for the others to see the gruesome sight that beholds on our home. Releasing me, he caressed my face softly and stood up to his full height.

I only asked one things . . . 'Why didn't you kill me?' His response not only confused me but it hurt so much more than you can imagine.

'Killing you is never an option.'

Walking proudly and showed such menacing strength, I could help but watch him leave. Out into the raging storm, he never turned back. Mounting his horse, he cracked the reigns and both went off into harsh weather. Disappearing without a trace."

The boy sat mute and stared at Samantha. While Samantha, herself, sat collected with boredom, her hands folded on her lap looking at still running tape recorder. Laughing only sightly, she turned to her guest before politely asking, "Are you all right Mr. Johnson, you seem troubled. By the fact I am older than you or the great image I have brought on your mind? Or are you only disappointed that nothing turned out the way you desired?"

Johnson only froze for a moment before answering Samantha, in the highest voice she ever heard. "No. . . . But I am wondering if there is more. Your life tale is interesting, and I want to hear more."

Surprised was what she felt, certainly she never thought her story was interesting. Never has she meet anyone willing to hear it. She smiled so softly with a twinkle in her eyes, happy to finally see that one person could know what truly happened.

"Yes there is more. The night is so young and I have so much I want to tell you. Do you have a enough tape?" She said eagerly to Johnson to in turn, smiled back.

"Yes, Now please tell me in full detail on what really happened."

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**OK folks, I know I rewritten my story for the 100****th**** time. But I couldn't help it, the plot bunnies keep messing with my head. I believe this one is my best one yet. My grammar has improved a little but still improved. **

**I hope those liked Tainted Hope will like this one too. **

**-bloodyren**


	2. Chapter 2

**Disclaimer: I don't own Totally spies.**

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**Tainted hope**

**Chap 2  
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"Upon my childlike dreams, there was a monster. Like all heathens upon earth, they wait before taking their prey unto their grasp. The wondrous feeling of freedom is out of reach for the victim. Call it old-fashioned or cliche, but it is true. The so-called tragedy of life happened right before me.

My bare feet hitting the dirt road, while the rain soaked my dress. Unknowingly I chased him, having false hope of catching him. To bring him to justice. Foolishly, using the last of my strength. Tripping on a small rock, falling unto the wet dirt and mud. Salty tears mixed with the rain falling and making puddles. Catching my breath I looked back to see I'd ran father than I thought. My house was not there. Nor was the plantations. I was in unknown territory. Fear gripped my chest and panic rose.

'Why,' I questioned. Why did my parents die? Why did he kill them? Why did Lord God neglect my silent cry for help?

The more questions, the more rage that built inside of me. The pure anger, the wrath I wished to set on all. For all to know my pain.

Selfish? yes. Pointlessly cruel? Maybe.

But not even the most logical person could judge me. Emotions are confusing and illogical within each person. Pounding the dirt with my fists, I threw a tantrum of a toddler. I couldn't control myself. Sobbing harder, I continued until my hands ached and became red. Rage escaped me. All emotions seeped out of my body until nothing was left. Like a soulless creature, I started walking up the trail leading to my fate. Only God knew where.

Yet I knew one thing, I knew I could never go back.

No one will take in orphan. . .society rules it out as a burden. Many children die on the streets being burdens and nuisance to America or the workman. They would be sent to distant orphanages, or being sent to work as a servant or slave. I did not want that. I wanted a better life."

"I can't tell you, Mr. Johnson how scared I was. Running away from my home with only the clothes on my back and no cent to my name."

"Didn't you say, you had grandparents?" asked Johnson, confused about turning events in Samantha's life. A homicide and now a child running away to somewhere. A story like this is more like a dramatic play or an expensive soap opera.

"You listen well. However to tell you the truth, I was not in the right state of mind. I did not think when I ran. Even if I didn't, the authorities would question me, hold me prisoner because I miraculously survived a brutal homicide. In those days, a child was seen but never heard. Which meant my word would fall on deaf ears. Even if I was older, it still would not matter. I am a woman, and women were not treated equally. Their purpose was to be wives, breeders, and domestic caretakers. Nothing else."

She shook her head. "No, they were either treated as wives or possessions. Toys for the males' amusement or desires." Looking up to see Johnson looking uncomfortable, she smiled bitterly at him. Somewhat amused by the look of his face. She could tell he had his share of dominance over a girlfriend or two.

"What I thought was miles from the town, the rain cleared away. But the clouds remained. When pure exhaustion caught up to me. I soon realized the strength and energy that I lost. My bones ached and my skin felt cold. The dirt and dried blood covered my dresses giving a foul odor and color. Dropping to my knees, my eyes felt heavy. My mind and body demanded rest but my heart wanted for me to continue. Almost begging to me to die in this condition. My mind soon won and soon I fell into a dreamless state on the road. Waiting for death to take me."

Johnson felt sick - the parts of death to the thought of death made him ill. He was not used to negative emotion. Even from a tiny woman who is old enough to be his ancestor. But what made him more uncomfortable is that he is beginning to feel something. Pity. They way she told the story was alluring to his senses. Almost as if she meant to make him see her at Samantha, he felt another emotion. Desire. Or Lust. . .

A cough took out of his thoughts to see Samantha frowning at him. He blushed lightly, scared if she could sense his thoughts.

"Not to be rude, Mr. Johnson. But I believe it would be best if we get some sleep. While the sun may not rise for a few hours, it would be unhealthy to force ourselves to stay awake." She said. He agreed, it was getting late, he was not used to staying up past twelve. Turning off the tape recorder, he gazed at his watch.

**2:16 a.m **

"Alright, then." Both standing up, Samantha motioned for him to follow her to his room. Walking along the hallway, Johnson noticed a portrait on the wall. A woman sitting on a pew, smiling at him. Dull brown hair and eyes, an angled face with a pointy nose - she was a plain woman. From the history books he read in High school - Johnson could tell this woman was poor from the condition of her clothes. Nothing fancy about her. She was not even pretty. But somehow he knew she was important to Samantha. Maybe he would ask her about the plain woman tomorrow. Catching up the girl, He waited patiently as she opened the door his room.

"This is where you will sleep tonight. Please if you have any questions, I will answer them tomorrow. Have a good night." She walked away after that.

Turning on the light, it revealed to be a simple windowless bedroom. With the common necessitates, like a bed, drawer, vanity and a night stand. However there were a few odd objects as well. Boxes stacked up high, almost touching the ceiling. Books scattered around the room, some open and some had torn pages. Even a small open box which held a small collections of dolls. Making way to the bed, He takes off his shoes and shirt before getting to bed. Unclasping his watch, he sets it on the nightstand.

Closing his eyes, he was sleeping in a matter or seconds.

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When he opened his eyes again, he felt restless. Johnson believed he slept for mere minutes - while in truth he slept through the whole day. Coming out of the bedroom (sometimes tripping over some books), he trudged his way to the hall. There, he again laid his eyes on the Portrait. The same old plain woman as before. But now he could see more clearly, he sworn she has gotten even more plain. The modesty of the woman was suffocating. Almost prudish. Covered from neck to toe in a loose dress, all buttons perfectly closed. Her Hair was simple pulled into a simple knot and her face was without make-up. Observing more carefully, Johnson notice some aging lines on her face. Laugh lines and a bit of crow's feet.

It was laughable to see him take such interest in a Painting. Or at least in his part. Converting his eyes eyes away, he notice another painting smaller one in a picture frame. But it was not the woman. It was Samantha with a man, both looking serious, standing together. Samantha looked much younger and much more smaller. Like the woman, she was wearing a dull colored dress and a bonnet. Her hair was styled into fancy curls. The gentleman was a bit more interesting. Having a square face, with pointed features. He was average like the woman. But his eyes were interesting - light green. His pupils were clouded as if he were blind. Or something close to it.

"Mr. Johnson?"

He jumped back at the soft voice. Slowly turning his head, he saw Samantha standing there holding with a tray of delicious food. She looked confused and partly worried. Worried because he didn't move for a minute before she spoke out. She could not blame the poor man for being curious, but that did not stop the sense of anger rushing through her.

"Oh Good morning Samantha! I didn't see you there. I'm sorry." Rambled Johnson in his usual nervous tone. He was a bit embarrassed and the light pink tone painted on his cheeks proved that. " You mean good afternoon Mr Johnson. It is two in the afternoon. And it is alright Mr. Johnson, I did not mean to scare you. I only wanted to bring in some food in case you were hungry." Teased Samantha.

"Oh ugh yes well . . . I was extremely tired and I'm sorry!" He stuttered before looking down in shame.

"I see you were interested in those particular paintings over there." Samantha remarked as she noted Johnson's unusual behavior. Frozen for a moment, He tried (unsuccessfully) to regain his composure.

"Well yes. . .its a lovely painting." He lied through his teeth and she knew it. She was not surprised that he was not in favor of the simple beauty of the painting. But then again most young people these days always seemed to lose interest in the real arts. Or perhaps it is the woman in the painting that turned eyes away from it. When Johnson was looking at the painting, she recognized the expression of disinterest and possibly disgust at it. In a way she was offended at such thing and wished to hit him just for that. But she remembered that he didn't know the sentimental value. Or the beautiful memories that were given to her because of that portrait.

"ugh Samantha. . .how is this woman? Is she your mother?" Johnson asked, obviously hating the rising tension between them. But he doubted his own question. He could tell she was not her mother. A plain woman like that giving birth to an exquisite beauty like Samantha. The features were not even comparable. But he didn't expect her answer agreeing with his question.

"In a way yes. She was like a mother to me after my parents were murdered. I considered her as one and she considered me as her own flesh and blood." She answered.

"Come" Picking up his tray, she motioned for him to follow her to the living room where the room was much brighter because of the sun. Setting the tray on the glass table gently. Johnson took his seat opposite of Samantha. Picking up the plate of food, He glanced at the odd dish. Meats covered in some spices and sets of carrots and onions. Mashed potatoes as the side dish. Taking bite, he was overwhelmed with the flavor. It had an odd taste but it was quite delectable from the spices. Taking a sip of his tea, he swallowed before setting his half eaten plate down.

"So you say she was a surrogate mother. Or something close to it." He said. Taking another sip of tea, he leaned back because to get comfortable.

"Yes"

"Then please begin where you left off then. Something tells me I will hear more of her" He said calmly. Turning on the tape recorder, he waited for her to start.

"I told you I fell into unconsciousness. Is that correct? Well where I woke up was a total surprise to me. Instead of outside, lying in a dirt and mud. I was lying on a small bed wrapped in a warm blanket. Opening my eyes, I looked around and realized I was in a small room. The room was pleasant I might add. With wooden floors and walls. A small cabinet at the side. A candle lit giving it a rather haunting light. The sounds were quiet and I could see the waning moon from the high was odd. I questioned myself and the kind person who gave me shelter.

I may have been showered with gifts, but overall I was not selfish. Much. The possibility of someone taking me in was a bit ludicrous or perhaps unheard off. I wanted to walk straight out of the room and out of this house. I wanted to leave and never return. I believed I was causing more trouble than staying out of it. How foolish was I back then?

Lying back down on the small bed. my head hitting the feathered pillow, and small body wrapped in a blanket. I felt forced to stay. Even back then the night still held dangers to small children. But instead of murderers or robbers, a child's mind is filled of monsters, demons and the devil himself was out there in the night. But then again I had encounter death . . . and it would be no different than the last."

"But from what I told you was at least the prologue of my beginning story. Lets say the next chapter would be called 'Soleil'. "

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**Not much of a chapter. But it is better than nothing. This is most likely a filler than a chapter really. But it doesn't matter now. I hope some enjoy it. **

**Mistakes are there . . .I know. **

**Bloodyren**


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